


30 day writing challenge- Jak

by Darke_Eco_Freak



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Here there be multishipping, M/M, Mentioned Character Death, Spans the entire trilogy, also existential crises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darke_Eco_Freak/pseuds/Darke_Eco_Freak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein I explore the character like I never have before and try to meet the specifics of the challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just another day of war

The guy’s nothing like what they expected. They’ve all heard the stories, the rumours about the monster in the man that somehow saved the city from the Metal Heads but they’ve never actually seen him. Until now. When they’re pinned down in the Port. With less ammo than a civvie.

“Ugh, trust the Tattooed Wonder to send us out here and make it sound like an honour,” the orange…animal moaned raising one back leg to scratch at an ear. Oh yes, this…pair wasn’t what any of them expected, okay, the guy barely looked legal! Even KG recruits had to be at least eighteen to sign on and even they stayed rookies for about a year, this, this kid couldn’t be a day over that. And the height sure as hell didn’t help the situation either, Rob’d never seen any adult so short before.

“He looks like some punk kid,” Mir muttered, low enough that their blond saviour and his sidekick didn’t hear, just because this Jak looked more like some punk kid than a soldier didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Rob might never have seen Haven’s Devil in the flesh but he’d heard more than enough and the mere fact the commander had sent him to the front line only backed that rep. He decided he could overlook the silver hoops dangling from the kid’s ears for that alone. Even if they just added to the general ‘don’t fuck with me vibe’.

“Can’t argue there, who keeps their hair long anymore?” he whispered while said blond propped his gun up on one of the ammo crates they were taking shelter behind. The kid’s hair was a foot if it was an inch and a dirty yellow you just didn’t see in Haven. But…maybe it was bleached out, that’d make sense with the tan the guy had and the green streaks that ran through. Bleached hair would mean the desert though which was insane, no one lived out in the desert.

“Get down,” Jak grunted, cocking the morph gun and sighting along the scope as a new wave of monsters approached. He didn’t have to tell them twice, Mir and Rob were the only surviving members of their platoon. Hex and Bar’d been shot and mauled early on in the invasion, it was a hard taught lesson but one they were forced to learn. Besides, not like they’d be much help without any ammo, they were locked on electrocute and that needed the enemy far too close for comfort. Rob most certainly didn’t yelp when the blond fired and the world exploded, course not it was unmanly and he was a Freedom League Guard damn it! Risking a peak over the ammo box he most certainly wasn’t clutching for dear life, he saw charred bits and pieces of Metal Head going splat on the ground. What the-

“Hell Jak? I told you to warn me before you used that thing!” the orange animal whined, short black claws curled tightly around an orange shoulder piece. Jak had just-he’d just blown up the Metal Heads!

“That’s a plasmite rpg! Weapons design’s been working on one for ages,” Mir breathed clearly awestruck by the weapon mod and who wouldn’t be? A grenade launcher was a serious piece of work and here was this kid toting one around like it was the most natural thing in the world. Although, from the things he’d heard about this Jak guy, a highly advanced weapon might just be downright normal.

Advanced weapon or not though, it still needed ammo which ran out about half way through a metal wave and then they were thrown back into hell. Hell filled with monster’s screeching blue murder and robots chirping electric death while one blond kid and his orange rat cut them down like they were nothing. Weapon mods changed out in heartbeats, one sweet piece for another in seconds and the enemy just didn’t know what hit them.

Rob and Mir still had their hands full though because although Metals usually went for the most obvious threat, the KGs actually started crawling up the sides of the port. Rob didn’t understand how their circuits didn’t fry in the water but he had better things to worry about, like keeping his head. He tried to ignore the exhilarated laughter, the one that reminded him of someone about to kill themselves and take every damn body with them, and the angry grunts that were nearly as bad as the metal roars. He really did.

"You guys weren’t too shabby,” the orange rat commented after the metals and KG decided that maybe it was better to retreat than be wiped out entirely by this blond kid. Mir gave thumbs up before promptly throwing up against a wall, there was only so much gore a man could take after all.

“Thanks, but we’d be dead without you two,” he said through ragged breaths, they’d been fighting for a good few hours between waves and he was entitled damn it. Somehow though, when his eyes slipped from the rat’s to the blond man, Jak didn’t even seem winded. He was breathing normally, gun slung over the shoulder the rat wasn’t on with a neutral expression but the eyes, damn those eyes.

Rationally Rob knew they were just a very deep blue, like the sky just after sunset, but damn if they didn’t look as black as a Metal Head’s. Just as black and full of an endless, alien intelligence that, quite frankly, scared him shitless. Rob was very, very glad he hadn’t signed on to the old KG when his pops had been pushing for it, he didn’t think he would’ve been able to face Haven’s Devil and live. Then Jak blinked and it was gone, the fathomless darkness was gone and a more normal eco blue took its place. Thank the Precursors.

“Just doing our job,” Jak replied but there was slight upwards quirk to his mouth that made Rob doubly sure joining the FLG was much better than the old KG.

“Maybe we’ll see ya around,” the rat called as they moved off, making their way to HQ as if they didn’t have a care in the world. He raised an arm in goodbye, watching until they rounded the corner and the last hint of them was gone. Punk kid indeed.


	2. Some nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things Jak would've like to change and the nights Torn has to live through

There are a lot of nights that just waste away for Torn, where the hours seem so meaningless in the face of all the work he still has to do. They’ve won the city, the Baron’s dead and the Metal Heads’re mostly dead but there’s still so much to do before they win their lives. Factories need to be reopened, trade negotiations need to be dealt with and the shield wall needs to go back up.

Other nights, he gets to leave the desk, to trudge through the cold, empty hallways to the Spartan bedroom he calls his. On those nights, the hours seem to stretch on forever in an exhausted, surrealistic way and Torn’s stuck in a half dreamed world of real threats and imagined danger. He tries to avoid those nights, work, work, work until he drops into a dead sleep at his desk or wherever the hell he manages to be.

Still, there are some nights. A precious few nights when a certain renegade comes knocking by his door or he goes knocking by the renegade’s and they curl up together. Sometimes they talk about life, about the war, about nonsense, sometimes they don’t. Thankfully this is one of those nights, and the renegade’s come to his door.

The knocking is mostly a formality, they both have the access pass to the other’s door but it’s better when they knock, more respectful.

“Come in,” he called shrugging out of his heavy undershirt and tossing it somewhere near the chest of drawers. The door slides open to frame the blond, the low light from the outer hall and the general light pollution spilling through the glass wall enough for him to take in tonight’s expression.

Jak’s eyes are dark, a blue bordering on black, and there are bags under his eyes that hint at too many nightmares and no sleep. The orange amulet around his neck making a nice contrast against his bare chest while the low slung pants only make him more inviting. Torn knows most of the city think they fuck like rabbits, the FLG that patrol the upper levels only adding to the shit. He also knows that sex isn’t the be all and end all of relationships, especially not one with Jak.

“If you could change anything about yourself, what’d it be?” the blond asked, stepping into the room and locking the door behind him. The question is clearly what’s brought him here and Torn has to wonder what kind of bullshit rumours’ve been spreading this time because it’s not one he’s used to. He’s gotten ‘Am I a monster?’, ‘Do you believe in heaven and hell?’, ‘Does it count if you did good anyway?’ and they always connect to the latest piece of monkaw shit gossip going around.

“The tattoos maybe,” he answered casually, slipping off his pants and throwing them with the shirt. Said tattoos running across his pale thighs and down his legs, up his arms and across his chest, displayed on his face and branded on his back. All former KGs have them, from the very top to the stinking bottom, branded like animals and they all signed up for it like fools.

“Being taller’d be nice, stupid, but nice,” Jak murmured, finally taking a seat at the foot of the bed, leaning back on his hands and breathing deeply. Torn knows exactly what he means. All the little nooks and crannies hidden around Haven, all the holes in the walls and cracks in the stone, they only work because he’s smaller than the rest of them. If Jak was taller, they wouldn’t work, sure it would give him the extra inch to grab a ledge but he always managed. He was the perfect height to hide away from the world and weather the storm.

“Just imagine if you were a girl. You’d be even shorter,” he laughed softly, smiling at the very thought of a female Jak. Actually, they wouldn’t be that much different now would they? Casting a critical eye on the blond he tried to superimpose a feminine body onto his, hips might be a little wider and there’d be a little more in the chest department, nothing like Tess or Ashelin of course. Maybe the biggest change would be a softer face, more of a curve to the cheek, and the height of course.

“And you’d still be riding my ass about protocols,” the blond scoffed but it was a tired thing and a vivid recollection of the night after Jak took out Kor hits him. Everyone had been drunk, drunk on beer and high on life, they had won, they got to live without counting down how many days until they had another Dead Town. That was the first night the blond had come knocking and it was purely by accident Torn’d even been there to invite him in.

He thought, well he wasn’t sure why he thought, but he supposed that now the war was over and they were both free men hat whatever they’d had, this relationship between them would be over. He was an idiot and the kid’d told him as much. But that night, they’d both been running on adrenaline and disbelief and needed something real. They’d sat together all night, watching the lit up city through his glass wall.

They hadn’t spoken because words didn’t make things real, being able to hold onto one of the few people you never expected to relate to was better. He’d breathed in the bitter tang of Metal Head blood and the stink of alcohol until they faded away to something cleaner, softer. Although when the bite of eco and sting of burning metal was better, you should probably rethink life choices.

That night is just like this one, somehow, the same feel, the same unreality.

“Which is worse? Some punk kid or just another failed experiment?” the words are quiet, almost whispered, leaving room to go unnoticed but still begging to be answered. They’ve both been through a lot of shit in their lives and he can only imagine the diagnosis the medics’d give if they ever went in.

“Dunno, never met either one, you?” he replied just as softly because as much as Torn’s a hardass and emotions are nearly a foreign concept to him, he’s not cruel. The kid comes to him for comfort, same reason he goes to the kid, and that takes a certain amount of trust. He’s not gonna ruin that by being a stinking piece of shit.

“Every time I look in the mirror but that’s not all I am, right? I’m still just a kid from SandOver but this place, this fucking city changes you. Dax is always on edge, he pretends otherwise but he is, and Samos’ just doesn’t talk to me anymore but Keira, Keria changed so much. She’s scared of me, I can see it whenever she looks at me, and I have to wonder if it’s because of what I turn into or who I am,” the words are harsh, reprimanding and self-loathing. Jak never speaks loud except when he wants to get a point across but this, the low volume only adds to the seriousness, lends a severity shouting never would’ve had.

“Does it matter though? What I am or what I’ve done so long as the world gets saved along the way? Does the whole ‘ends justify the means’ thing work out for people like us or are we just condemned no matter what?”

Torn really wished he had an answer for the kid, wished he was somewhat good at the whole emotional support thing. He’d never been good with words, unless it had to do with strategy or shouting orders, and he knows saying the wrong thing now’ll just fuck the kid up more. He really fucking wished he knew what to say but then again, words didn’t make things real.

He breathes out deeply before moving to sit at the foot of the bed, he doesn’t try to move the kid, just lets his bare leg press against the rough cloth of Jak’s pants and watches the city.


	3. In another life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fairy AU in which Jak and Daxter meet under quite different circumstances

Gods above, how in the nine hells was he still alive? Errol had thrown him from the cliff to the waves below, he had known Daxter could swim for naught and decided the easiest way to kill the only other heir to their uncle’s vast fortune would be to drown him. The wretch, and after everything Daxter had done for him, aided in wooing his beloved Keira, taught him how to properly navigate high society!

“Ah, you’re awake, and I hope well. Quite the tumble you did take and such a long way you fell. I saw you as you sank, at first I thought you were from a boat, fair amount of water you drank and I do apologise for the soreness of your throat. Moth told me about the man, who was he? I bet not much of a fan.”

Sucking in a sharp breath that immediately had him wincing, he searched for the owner of the foreign, musical voice that spoke in rhymes. However, he had neglected to notice the pitch black of his surroundings, perhaps he was dead after all and that was the devil speaking. Waiting until he thought himself safe to pounce and drag his damned soul down to hell.

“I am no devil, pretty one, tough I am considered devilish by some. Pray tell, who be thee, and I shall cause some light to be,” the person, a man, implored. Considered devilish by some? What was that supposed to mean? Still…this stranger, demon or no, had called him pretty so perchance they weren’t as bad as he thought.

“I am Daxter Casella, nephew of the Duke Damas, and the man who threw me from the cliff was my cousin by my mother’s brother, Errol. After the death of our parents, the Duke took us in and declared us both his heirs as he has no children,” he explained, trying his best not to sound bitter. Murderer though Errol be, he was still family and had been Daxter’s dearest friend for many years, it would not do to speak ill of him to a stranger no less.

“Hmm, a deal is a deal, and now for my grand reveal. Oh and do try not to run, my darling, pretty one,” the man sighed and suddenly the forest was thrown into sharp relief. Yes, those were trees around him, brown barks with green moss growing on them, and the underbrush was thick enough to prevent any wild thing from bursting into their clearing. How had not felt the grass under his palms that was now awash with an eerie white light, not unlike moonlight but the moon had already waned for the month.

Struck with a sudden mind numbing fear, wide eyes travelled the short space between himself and the beautiful, fae creature that had saved him from certain death. Green hair, green!, fell in a dark curtain about his face, only serving to accentuate overly fine features and providing a lovely contrast to practically glowing sapphire eyes. Travelling over the rich livery, gems and rare, exotic blossoms draped over a sinfully crafted body, back to the proud horns that sprouted from his skull in the perfect representation of a crown, there was little doubt in Daxter’s mind on just who this gorgeous creature was.

“The King of the fae,” he whispered before falling into a dead faint, leaving a thoroughly amused fairy to ponder over his new servant.


	4. Meetings suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There really are so many other things Haven's devil would rather be doing

Seriously, there were so many things Jak’d rather be doing than sitting through some boring as shit council meeting, like teaching yakkows to dance. At least the yakkows were good company and they might actually listen to him after he shouted for the hundredth time. The mere fact he was considering taking a dancing yakkow herd on the road was a testament to how mindnumbingly stupid this meeting was.

“We simply cannot afford to let the shield walls drop, councillor Len. We might as well just demolish the security walls while we’re at it and dump all our eco in the wasteland,” Ashelin argued for the umpteenth time and even she was starting to get annoyed. Jak really had no idea why she’d reassembled the council after the whole mess with Veger, not like they’d done shit while Praxis ran the city into the ground anyway. As far as he saw it, the council was just a group of old fucks that thought they owned the city just because they had more money than everybody else.

“But the drain on city funds is too considerable to go unchecked,” another old fuck, Mello or something, chuffed. City funds, as if, the fat bastard was just worried about his own pockets. Growling under his breath, Jak went back to playing with the safety of his morph gun, click, click, click. Torn raised a brow at him across the table but he could care less, he wasn’t a politician and didn’t give a shit for what any of these bastards thought.

“Councillor Matt, if we let the shields drop, we could face invasion from another city or from the regrouped Metal Heads,” Torn intervened and that had the council sweating. Their fear was pungent and it disgusted him. They feared for their money and their property, not the lives that would be lost. When the shield wall had come down nearly two years ago, the council had been safely hidden away in their private shelters while the city bled.

“Even so, I’m sure the fine men of the city guard would be able to protect us,” Len pandered and if only Torn hadn’t confiscated his needle pincer upgrade. He would’ve been able to shoot each one of these bastards in a minute flat and then the meeting would be over. Glancing out the window at the setting sun, he might even be able to hit the desert before moon rise.

“There aren’t enough people in the guard. They’d be stretched too thin and we’d lose too many good soldiers,” Torn explained bitterly. Yeah, it wasn’t like they’d just waged a war or anything, defended this damn city against the Metal Heads and the old Krimson Guard. Precursors above, why the hell did Ashelin insist he come to these damn things anyway? Was she still pissed about the kiss? Did she think this was an appropriate form of anger management or something?

“Yes but surely there must be **_something_**? Without operational factories or eco mines, the city can’t afford this waste!” another councillor yelled. The blond took one calming breath before getting to his feet, morph gun held loosely in his hands as he faced the councilman.

“Would you rather cut back on a few imported chocolate while the city’s industries get back on their feet or would you rather sit holed up in your little panic room, waiting for the Metal Heads to break in?” he barked. There was a collective gasp and the scraping of chairs as the council drew back, trying to get away from him without outright running.

And **_this_ ** was why Ashelin demanded he attend all these Precursors forsaken meetings. He scared the everloving shit out of the councilmen. They knew what the Baron had done to him and they knew just who’d won the war. They might be cheap as shit but they weren’t as stupid as he liked to think they were. Their sense of self preservation was as strong as anything else on their fat bodies.

“All for keeping the shield walls at full, say aye,” he ordered, staring each and every one of them down until they agreed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Torn shaking his head and caught the barest muttering of ‘every damn time’.

“A unanimous vote of keeping the shield walls up, well done gentlemen. Meeting adjourned,” Ashelin announced and it was all he could do to wait for the council to filter out. They’d set his teeth on edge with their stubbornness, so dead set on keeping their damn money that they were willing to risk innocent lives without a second thought.

“Glad you could make it to the meeting Jak,” Ashelin called as she left as well, there was always something that needed the Governess’ attention. He raised a hand in goodbye before focusing on the window, he could just maybe get back to the desert by moonrise at this rate, or he could drop by the pumping station. The metal heads had left it alone mostly and it was the closest he was ever going to get to sentinel beach again.

“Hey, before you go,” Torn explained, sliding a plate and a flask over the cold metal of the meeting table. He glanced from the plate to the red haired Commander leaning against the wall, familiar smirk in place.

“And what’s this for?” he asked taking a bite of the chocolate delicacy, it was damn hard to come by but somehow Torn always managed to find some wintermelon for him. Frozen melon slices covered in creamy white chocolate, it was one of his few vices next to flying and racing, and the only one he couldn’t indulge in daily.

“Not blowing the bastards heads off,” the commander stated calmly, sauntering over to stand in front of the glass window that served as a wall. A quick swig of the spiced wine Haven was famous for and he was standing next to his Commander, fingers splayed against the glass as the city twinkled below.

“You up for a midnight ride?” he asked. Jak could get out to the Wasteland any time he wanted, mostly, but Torn usually had something that needed his attention in Haven. He hoped it was one of those rare, free nights.

“Sure, why not,” the Commander chuckled, snagging the blond around the waist and pressing their lips together. He smirked against the soft pressure and wondered if the Commander hadn’t misunderstood him. Although, he guessed both meanings worked, especially if they were one after the other.


	5. Everything I regret and One thing I don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 of the thirty day challenge which has been put off for more than a month now. Today we explore Jak's many talents and the job he signed on for.

As much as it pained the old sage to say it, Jak really has grown into himself over the years, developing the talents Samos had known he would with tremendous ease and deadly accuracy. Truly he wished the Precursors had set a different path for the boy, one as not as stained with blood and death as this but all things happened for a reason. Looking back on all he knew now, back in the future where he belonged and in the city he had left behind so many years ago, he could see that.

As a young man, as the Shadow, he had dismissed many of the reports coming in of the Baron's latest little science experiment. Dark eco injections were instantly fatal and any rumours of surviving subjects were just that, rumours. It had taken one blond kid and his pet saving the sacred site in Dead Town for him to finally take notice but by then, everything was already in motion. Watching this young man, this survivor of the Baron's terrible experiments perform each and every task given to him with a barely leashed anger was breath taking.

He'd had no idea just what made this Jak boy different from all the rest. Just what had saved him from the corruption that so quickly followed dark eco but he had been grateful. At the time. Samos had been there with all the rest of the city when the boy raced, watched in awe and horror as this unknown child took the hairpin turns with a wild grin, jumped gaping holes in the track with a reckless laugh while others crashed and burned. Samos had watched and he had believed, but he had never questioned. Not until Torn's betrayal.

Somehow he had always known the ex-Krimson Guard was too good to be true. A willing recruit that had valuable inside information and a talent for strategy? He should have known the Precursors were never that benevolent, even to those that needed their intervention the most. When Jak had disappeared into Mar's tomb in place of the boy, of the chosen child, cold fear had gripped his heart and he didn't fight when the Baron's guards took them away.

Meeting his older self, talking with his older self about all that had happened and all that would happen had been an intensely introspective conversation he hated to recall. To know they would win the war against the Baron and defeat the Metal Head Leader was sweeter than any amount of spiced wine. To hear he would have to wait decades to see the fruit of his labours stung worse than any wumpbee.

Then being released from prison by the very boy he would later have to care for, to lie to and scold for doing what all children did. The only relief he felt in taking the younger Jak to the past was that he would finally learn more about the Precursors and how their terrible war had began. Although actually seeing the boy channel all forms of eco in marvellous and fantastic ways assuaged his future guilt. Knowing that yes, Jak would survive the dark eco experiments because of his natural talents and tenacity was all he had in face of future where the Baron would rip this innocent soul to shreds.

Watching Jak and Daxter sit, enraptured by his adopted daughter's talks on machines and their captivation as she created the very first zoomer warmed his heart. At least they would be able to get around the city safely later on, they would know how to drive, how to steal vehicles. The pain in his heart when Jak operated the Lurker cannons was great but that too was a blessing for the boy would not be so surprised by the weapons of the future.

Repeating those weak platitudes over and over again were all that kept him strong and stern in the past, in Sandover as he grew into the Sage the future needed. They were all he had when the once voiceless boy screamed his agony to the heavens outside of his cell, as he shut his ears to that pain.

"Look what Jak bought me daddy, isn't it pretty?" Keira giggled, dragging him to the current present and away from the horrible past. They had won the second war, Jak had defeated Erol and his terrible dark maker ship, they had all met the Precursors and the boy's soul was at peace once more. Yes, that was his life now, peace again without fear of the future to come.

"Yes, beautiful darling," he answered automatically, not caring for whatever little trinket the boy had brought from the wastelands this time. As glad as Samos was that Jak's attentions had finally shifted from his daughter, he still did not approve most of the dangerous artefacts he brought in from the desert. Half of them had been lost in the sand for ages, perhaps for good reason.

"Daddy you're not even looking," Keira complained, lifting a glittering thing in front of his face for inspection. A necklace, a necklace made of delicate silver links with a pendant in the shape of a dragonfly hewn from any number of crystals. His daughter was right that it was lovely although how the boy had come by this was sure to be quite the story.

"Yes, yes, lovely, where did Jak get this?" he asked, taking the pendant in hand to further admire the exquisite workmanship. He couldn't have gotten this in Haven, or even Spargus where eco crystals were easier to come by, had he ordered it from another city? But that would cost a pretty orb and it wasn't as though the boy had a job per say.

"When he went with Ashelin to that meeting in Kras, he said he saw it in the window of a jeweller's there and thought of me," Keira explained, lifting her hair for him to put it on her. The old sage did so automatically, still confused as to just how the boy had gotten the money for this gift of his. As far as he knew, the boy didn't spend much on himself beyond food and gun maintenance. To besides, he didn't work anywhere, unless you considered his continued efforts in clearing the city of Metal Heads and Krimson robots.

He still played soldier for the council and for the Freedom League, taking squads of men down to the sewers to get rid of stragglers or making forays into the Metal Head city section to get rid of the horrible dark tower. When he wasn't cleaning the city, he was off in the desert, helping in artefact runs and keeping the people there safe. Perhaps he'd sold an eco crystal in Kras and used some of the money to buy this?

"Ashelin does pay him, you know, said it wasn't right that the saviour of the city barely had anything to his name. She set up an account for him and he gets paid as much as a commander," his daughter continued flippantly. And oh. Samos had never thought about that, about actually paying the boy for all he'd done for a city that had tried to get rid of him time and again.

"Eh, and that's a lot?" he ventured, racking his brains to try to remember just how much the guards got. He knew they didn't have to pay for lodging most of the time, the barracks took care of that, but did that factor into their pay? It had been far too long since he'd had to worry about any of those things, as the Shadow he'd managed funds yes but that had been a very long time ago.

"Are you kidding? Errol used his guard money to fund his racing here and in Kras, and lemme tell ya, Kras racers ain't cheap," Keira scoffed, throwing her hair back over her shoulders and ducking out of his room. The old sage watched after her and was hit by another wave of shame. Shame for the resentment he'd had for an innocent child and for the cowardice he showed when he failed to save the boy he raised. Set path or not, Samos was still a bastard, no two ways about it.

"Maybe I could get him one of those chocolate cakes he's so fond of," he muttered under his breath. In perspective it wouldn't mean much but it was something, and Jak had always loved sugary things. The old sage continued muttering to himself as he wandered through the rebuilt palace corridors, half stuck in the past and planning for the present.


	6. This Hunger in my blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where being the muscle of a former Crime Lord has its perks.

There were certain things he'd gained from his renegade days that were just too useful to get rid of; his morph good, his intricate knowledge of the little hideaways throughout the city, his pass cards. All of which he refused to give up but his connections with Krew were at the very top of the list.

"Here ya go, latest shipment from Kras," Jinx announced, tossing over a dark packet that he deftly shoved into his backpack.

While the city might be back on its feet, the strip mine back in operation and most of its factories reopened, they still weren't the glorious city they once were. Or at least the city he'd heard about; the centre of trade and technology with the most advanced military in the world. Of all that, only the military remained, partially, and they still had a long way to go.

"Thanks, I owe you one Jinx," he swore handing over the agreed upon orbs, plus a little extra. The pyromaniac gave him a two fingered salute and walked away, just another face in the crowd though Jak could probably track him if he tried. He waited a few minutes in the shadows under a stall while a patrol passed through the Bazaar before starting off himself.

Sure Haven might be back on its feet but its underworld left much to be desired. Guns were easy to come by, Krew used to ship through the Wastes like any sensible Crime Lord, stolen tech, even information had been available to Haven's underworld. Hell, Jak was pretty sure that was where the Underground had gotten the majority of its information if not from Krew himself. He was also nearly a hundred percent certain Ashelin still maintained her father's old criminal contacts. Same way he had so really he wasn't doing anything wrong.

"Yeah fucking right," he scoffed under his breath, glaring at a patrol that passed just a little too close. He knew most of them were left overs from the old guard, they were grunts mostly as all the higher ups had been weeded out leaving just these foot patrols. The very same foot patrols that had tried to stop him any number of times as he broke every law the city had while running errands for the Underground and Krew. They still had a healthy fear of him and tried their best to stay out of his way.

"Not like this is the first time anyway," he muttered, rounding the last corner back out to the Port. Somehow he always talked to himself whenever he had the stuff on him. Probably a left over piece of conscience, or just the addiction leaking out.

"Eating up more like," he growled and a nearby townie turned around in mid stride, walking away as fast as he could without outright sprinting. Jak ignored the man, resisting the urge to start sprinting himself as the Ottsel came into view. The package in his bag called to him, dumped ice in his blood and set his teeth on edge. He had needed something to tide him over until he could get out the city and it was already so close.

"Hey Jak, Tattooed Wonder was just here looking for you," Daxter called from the bar, Tess waving from one of the booths.

"Yeah, yeah, tell him he can blow his mission out his ass," he answered before his friend could even tell him what the commander wanted. Although, from the lack of response he was probably on the money and hopefully no one would bother him for a couple hours at least. That was fine though, he didn't need much time to soothe the ache in his bones.

Locking the door to his and Daxter's shared room at the Ottsel, he practically ripped into his backpack, dumping the package on the bed and pulling out a knife. This stuff was dangerous, oh so very dangerous, and Jinx never slacked with security. He needed the knife to cut through the double wrapped tape to the syringes full of purple heart, each one enough to get you high for hours but it was never enough. They fell in a pile on his bed, glass clinking and the roaring in his ears growing to a crescendo.

The blond didn't bother with cleaning his arm, he didn't need to, he took the first of the dozen and stabbed into in his arm. The effect of the drug was instantaneous, the eco crackling through his veins and taking the edge off the hunger, off the need. Put aside and repeat, and repeat, and repeat, until the entire stash was done and he could breathe.

"Fucking Praxis," he breathed, staring at the ceiling as the light buzz enveloped his senses. It wasn't enough to actually get him high, never enough, but enough to feed the addiction. Yet another side effect of being the Baron's fucking lab rat. After a near two years of constant dark eco injections in nearly every form available, his body had come to rely on the stuff. During the war it was easy to get eco, he was always going outside the security walls and there were always Metal Heads looking for an easy meal. Those pieces of shit had eco in their blood too and killing them didn't get rid of it so waste not want not.

Now though, with the war over and things settling down, it was harder to slip away. To get out of the city to the Metal Heads with their disgustingly sweet blood so he had to get his fix somewhere else. Thank the Precursors for Jinx and his blatant disregard for the law. Nowadays, he got enough purple heart to kill a dozen junkies in less than two days. Not the easiest thing to get seeing as only the bravest sons of bitches injected dark eco. But a lethal overdose was just enough to calm the urge until he could get to his real supply, until he could slaughter those monsters and feed his own.

"Because seriously, fuck Praxis," he grunted, sweeping the empty syringes under the bed to be disposed of later.

"But thank fuck for Krew," he sighed.


	7. Things are relative. You are not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And day 7 asks about everything you have. What is home, where is it, who is it?

"You could always move back into HQ," he reminded Jak as they sat on the roughly hewn stairs. The moon was spectacularly bright, brighter than in Haven by a long shot, and the rising tide was only just washing over their feet. And while there were a lot of things Torn hated about the Wasteland city like the sand, and the giant fucking lizards, and the sand, and the marauders that refused to just _**die**_ , and the fucking _sand_ , the ocean wasn't one of them. He actually didn't mind a body of water that wouldn't poison him in five seconds flat and didn't have patrol bots trying to fry him to a crisp. 

"Could, but I like it better out here," Jak replied, breathing in deeply with an expression so content Torn had to wonder if he was hopped on drugs. He's never seen the blond this relaxed, not while he was wiping out Metal Heads or racing through the desert or even flying with those ethereal wings of his. That this death trap of a city could make the man so happy was mind boggling yet, somehow, made complete sense. It was one of the many rules of the Universe, if it's completely inhospitable and impossible to love, Jak won't be able to stay away.

"Right, cause it reminds you of SandOver?" he ventured, staring at the waves lapping at the stone and the reflection of the moon. He and Jak were…well they were something. He was hesitant to say _boyfriends_ because it just sounded stupid and juvenile but they _were_ together. They'd been something ever since he'd let his emotions get the better of him in a hole in the wall hide away when a blond brat refused to obey orders. And he had fully expected that something to die after the war was won. He'd expected Jak to go back to Keira or find Ashelin, but he hadn't. Instead they'd grown closer, learning each other slowly but intimately in the year between one war and the next and then...Veger.

Now they were here, in this new home Jak had found for himself and refused to leave. Now they were here on the back steps of his one bedroomed home while the moon rose and took the tide with it. Now here they were again, needing each other and having each other on a night that just didn't feel real.

"The sand wasn't as gritty and the ocean was lighter. We still couldn't swim out far because of the Lurker sharks but we could play in the shallows. We had more trees too, Samos made sure, but the moon's the same and the ocean's mostly the same. This is home," Jak explained quietly leaning over to let his fingers trail in the water. And if it was home, then who was Torn to say otherwise?

He had only cared about the room, it had a bed, nothing else, just a bed and a single at that. There was a window looking out at the ocean and another door that led to these steps, a door for the water to walk in whenever it wanted, and a bed. Sure Jak was used to having less, Torn still had no idea where the kid had slept during his time with the Underground, and it wasn't as though his bedroom at HQ was any better but still. At least at HQ he had a bathroom and a closet full of clothes and a desk with stationary he would never use.

Jak deserved so much more, he'd done too much for Haven and Spargus to barely have a handful of crap to his name. The account Ashelin had opened didn't even begin to make up for all he'd sacrificed and lost because Jak would never use any of the money. Torn knew Jak, he _knew_ him, he wouldn't spend the money on himself unless it had to do with guns or vehicle upgrades. More than likely he'd take the money and waste it on Keira or give it to Tess and Daxter 'for the bar', never for himself. Fucking Hero complex. 

Jak was fine with a bed and spare change of clothes, he didn't need anything more than that to be content. And now he had the ocean back, he had his home, he would never need more to be _**happy**_.

"Unless you want me back at HQ," the blond offered, face unreadable in the poor light. Right, cause it was always about what Torn wanted, what he wanted Jak to do next or where he needed him to go. Sometimes he wondered just what Jak thought this relationship was about, if Torn was only with him because of convenience or because he genuinely wanted to be. Nearly two years and he still had no idea how the kid thought.

"You obviously like it out here, I wouldn't ask you to give this up," he grumbled, exhaling sharply at the wet fingers on his wrist and at how close ocean black eyes were. Another thing he still didn't understand because he knew, he _knew_ , that Jak had blue eyes, so very blue but sometimes they were black with unspoken emotion. He always felt as though he was staring into the eyes of something not quite human but it was Jak, it would always be Jak.

"And you don't have to go back to HQ either." The words are a caress on his lips, an invitation for him to stay in a city that isn't his, under a sky he doesn't know with the man he will always love. He can't answer just yet, he isn't some hormone driven teenager that never thinks things through, he could never afford to be. So he doesn't answer, he needs time to think about it, and knows exactly how to get that time.

He leans forward and lets their lips connect. Slides a hand up to tangle in the long, dirty blond hair and looses himself in a world he's only just beginning to know. 


	8. From the horse's mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because everyone knows rumours are bullshit.

There was a lot about Jak that people of this city thought they knew. They knew that he was a cold blooded killer, a psychotic sociopath that deserved to be put down like the dog he was. They knew that the Baron had only ever acted in their best interests so why shouldn’t they have reported the blond kid sleeping under a tent stall? They knew that the council would always be right so why should they stop them from exiling the dark eco freak?

“Hey Tess, need any help?”Jak asked, leaning against the Naughty Ottsel’s door frame, grinning. 

And then there was what Tess knew about Jak.

She’d met him in a dingy city alley and he’d turned the ritual struggle her life had become into something chaotic and wild and worth living. There was just something about the kid with his confident smirks and dark glares that made her blood run hot. There was just something about the kid with his wistful smiles and thousand yard stares that made her heart ache.

She’d become the bartender at the Hip Hog to get information from Krew, information he wouldn’t give to the Underground no matter the price, and to just get away from the banality of the hideout. There were always more casualties to report than successes, always more men being caught and tossed in prison than people being broken out, being saved.

She’d become a bartender at the Hip Hog and gotten all the perks that came with it, from the tips to the drunken come ons to the new rumours flying through the city. There was this blond kid with an orange rat that could turn into a monster, that was working for the   
Underground, that had fucked the Baron over a half dozen times already.

She hadn’t expected it to be Jak, but she had, and when he’d finally come in, she just couldn’t merge this boy with the renegade the city already believed him to be. Oh sure he was dangerous, any asshole could see that, but there was also a sense of purity, of goodness. Goodness that clung to him so tightly and separated him from the monster the city was so enamoured with. She’d known she could never begin to understand the insanity that was this boy’s mind so she hadn’t tried. She’d listened to Daxter’s stories and she’d given them free alcohol, there hadn’t been much else she could do. Though she’d always wished there was.

Then the Metal Heads had broken through the wall and the war seemed lost. He’d come then too, she hadn’t called him and he hadn’t come for her but he had protected her all the same. She’d given him information and he’d told her how to properly barricade the doors, as if she hadn’t known, but appreciated it all the same.

The next thing she’d heard about him, Jak had defeated the Metal Head leader. Jak had saved the city. Jak had won them the war. And she thought about the blond boy with his talking pet rat that this entire city had demonized.  
The peaceful time between one war and the next hadn’t lasted long, a few weeks, a couple months? They’d thought they had time, years and years of it to grow, to learn, to cobble together a post war life when all they’d known was endless fighting and death. Jak had come in to the Naughty Ottsel nearly every day, to talk, to relax, and she’d gotten to know him, sort of. His favourite colour was green, like his hair, he had a mortal fear of wumpbees, he’s barely seventeen.

Then another war broke out and things got real bad real fast. This time though, this time she hadn’t worried. Hadn’t reverted to the closed off, cold beauty that the Underground had been famed for. This time Tess chose what she did, she built guns and she improved the quality of the new FLG, because she believed in Jak. She believed in the boy she’d met in a dirty little alley that had hatred burning his heart and monster in his blood. She believed in the hero who continually bested his demon and had saved the city. The knight in dinged armour who spat fire as hot as the dragon’s.

They had exiled Jak and she still believed. She trusted him to save them again, even if they didn’t deserve it, because he was a hero, no matter how much he denied it. She had made her guns and waited for him to return, waited for Daxter to come back and waited for the war to pass.

“Just to move some crates in the back. They’re a lot bigger than I remember,” she laughed, clambering onto Jak’s shoulder when he stopped by the bar.

He hadn’t disappointed her. He’d come back, he’d found some sort of destructive inner peace and he’d saved the entire world this time, saved their Gods this time. She’d like to say she’d been surprised but she wasn’t.

“Dax had the same problem,” he explained ducking through the beaded curtain and into the much cooler storage room.  
Tess hadn’t been surprised because she knew Jak. She knew he was stronger than the poison in his blood, stronger than the demon that possessed him. She knew he valued life, why the hell else was he constantly saving people? She knew there were things he’d lost and would never get back, Godly balance or no. But Tess knew Jak was greater than all that, that he preferred to live in the moment and would be content with what he has.

“And you’ll be here for me just like you were there for him,” she giggled.

“Yup, I live to serve ottsels.”


	9. Why yes, my middle name is 'You piece of shit!'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for some quality time with everyone's favourite pyro, Jinx!

"How'd you get so good at this anyway?" Jinx asked conversationally, shifting just enough to hide the blond from a passing patrol of FLGs. Sure Jakkie boy had saved the city and all their skins but Torn still hated it when they stole zoomers for a little less than legal joy riding. Jinx really didn't give half a shit what the tattooed hypocrite had to say and Jakkie boy was great company that was always up for anything. Great company when his raging eco addiction wasn't rearing its ugly head of course.

"My friend used to design racing zoomers," Jak grunted as the familiar sound of a parked zoomer starting up graced their ears. He grinned and tossed a cigar butt into the drain before climbing in next to the city's saviour, and grabbing on to the seat for dear life.

Jinx was a pyromaniac, meaning he got a thrill from playing with fire, riding in a zoomer with Jak was about three times as dangerous and twice as exhilarating. He'd seen Krimson Guards try some of the stunts less-than-golden boy here did and end up a smouldering piece of twisted metal, and that was on those little single seaters.

Hair pin corners were just a one of the many tricks Jakkie boy had and loved to show off, case in point, their heading onto one of the walkways above the industrial section with a clunky double seater. Civvies screamed and jumped out of the way as their lumbering zoomer flew by, daring them to be where Jak wanted to pass.

And it wasn't so much that the guy was a bastard, only ever an asshole, he just had a hard on for speed. Jinx had seen Jak hi-jack a hellcat cruiser just to start an insane chase all across the Port and back, ducking into the water and swimming a good hundred yards to get them off his tail…before doing it again. You'd think the guy was off his rocker but there was this manic glee that lit up less-than-golden boy's face as he flipped vehicles **_upside down_** that turned pure insanity into poorly hidden lust. As much as Jinx thought the guy was fucking insane, he could respect him and didn't judge him for getting his rocks off in his own special way.

"Me and Dax'd watch for hours then we'd test drive 'em," Jak continued casually as they took a heart stopping drop off the walkway into noon-day traffic, scattering another patrol. Two blaster shots followed as they swung the corner into the bazaar section's over pass with Jak giving not a fuck. Other drivers shouted and screamed as they scraped past, their zoomer throwing up sparks as Jak forced them between both lanes of traffic as fast as the double seater could go.

"Explains how you won the Championship against Errol," he commented, nearly biting off his own tongue as they flipped, up and down switching places for a few nauseating seconds before getting the hell back in their original places. No matter how many fucking times Jakkie boy did it, Jinx _still_ wasn't used to that trick. He'd had no idea you could even flip a single seater much less a two seater before less-than-golden boy gave him a firsthand demonstration.

"I'm the best there is, plain and simple," the blond explained, no such thing as modesty existing as they rounded the corner to the thoroughfare where Mar's ruined statue lay. Although, the guy **_had_** won the Class one race against the best racer in Haven without bribing the officials so maybe pretty boy had a right to be cocky.

" _And_ I have a morph gun," less-than-golden boy added, infinitely smug as the zoomer made a tight 180 turn back towards the Port.

"You're such an asshole suga'," he snickered. Oh yeah, Jakkie boy was always great company.


	10. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family isn't always the one you're born with or even the one you started with. Mostly it's the one you're left with and hasn't left you.

Sometimes he liked to pretend, or fantasize if you'd prefer, about the life he could've had. Damas might never have known Jak was really his son but the man had been far too lenient, far too fatherly for him not to be able to imagine. Letting him and Dax stay when they refused to shoot Sig, giving them more gun mods than they rightly deserved and access to all of Klievier's vehicles. And of course there was always the armour, the armour he'd been saving for his **_son_** , given to Jak instead because of the Dark Makers.

A life with Damas in it was easy to imagine, a life where Damas and him were family was nearly impossible. The man probably would've been a little more protective, tried to get him to stay in Spargus full time rather than share him with Haven. There would have been a thousand and one awkward conversations, about the past, about his eco powers, about his mother. Jak bet they would've gotten along pretty well, although there would also be the longing in the old King's eyes. He would've accepted Jak well enough but he would've always been searching for the bright eyed little boy he'd lost all those years ago. Damas would've spent the rest of his life hoping for a boy that had never existed while trying to learn about the man he already respected.

Other times Jak liked to remember the family he'd had, all those years ago in SandOver when everything was innocent and simple. He'd never considered Samos his father, although the old Sage had tried at first, tried his hardest to have him think of him as a father figure but he never could. As a kid, he'd never spoken, he'd enjoyed his own personal silences and learnt to read what people said in their own silence.

As a child he'd known Samos wasn't his father, that Samos always wished he was somewhere else and that he was always waiting for something to happen. For that reason, Jak'd always designated the old sage to the role of distant uncle, a man that cared about you but never got too close. Just like the man everyone had tried to convince him _was_ his uncle. The adventurer would be one day there and gone the next, Jak had been lucky to see him in between one journey and the next.

Samos' silences had changed when Keira came to live with them, a little girl that Samos had brought back with him after visiting the Blue sage. Samos claimed the little girl was his daughter, adopted of course, but Jak could see that Samos considered her his own flesh and blood. Keira joining his little family had thrown his world off its axis for a while, he had _liked_ her, this strange little girl that tinkered around with machines. He wasn't sure he should even add her to his family but how could she not be a part when Samos was his uncle? In the end, Keira had gotten the role of step-sister because he would always love her as much as a sister and this way they weren't _related_.

Then Daxter had come to SandOver, another orphan Samos had brought back from a visit to the Red sage. Jak had never understood _why_ Samos had done it. The old sage clearly didn't like Daxter, the way he was always getting into things he shouldn't and dragging Jak and Keira along with him. Samos was always going on about how Daxter was a troublemaker, that the little red head had corrupted Jak but he never once tried to get rid of him, never once tried to separate them.

Jak had considered Daxter his brother nearly immediately. The red head didn't mind his silences the way Keira sometimes did, didn't care that he could channel eco the way Samos did. He had never asked why Jak never spoke, never asked about his past, never told him he was strange because he liked climbing up to the Oracle and spending the night there. Daxter accepted Jak as his quiet best friend that liked to do things just because Samos said they shouldn't.

That had been his little family with an uncle, a step-sister and a brother, and he'd never wanted anything more. Then the rift gate happened and he'd lost his family, three years later and he still hadn't found most of them.

Daxter had found _him_. Of course his brother had been the one looking, the one searching and fighting to find him and get him out of prison. Together they had rescued the man he once considered uncle and the girl he'd thought of as step-sister. An uncle that only did what he had because of events outside of his control and a sister that turned her back as soon as you did something she didn't like. His family had fallen apart in a world he'd never wanted to accept.

"I already fucking told you no. I am not adding a waterslide to the new HQ," Ashelin shouted over Tess and Daxter's chorus of 'please!'.

"Aw come on cherry, why not give 'em what they want?" Sig suggested, not for the first time nor the last seeing as Tess and Dax had been taking turns with Jak and Jinx in asking Ashelin to add a hundred foot waterslide to the HQ. They were remodelling _anyway_ , why not make something fun for a change?

"If it's such a good idea, make one in Spargus," Torn grunted, glaring across the room at his stupid blond partner and their stupid blond pyrotechnic. They'd started this nonsense and he was going to make them pay.

"Cherry, there's a giant ass squid that lives in the water around Spargus," the wasteland King explained rationally which was exactly what Ashelin didn't want. This had been going on for at least half an hour now, Pecker'd flown out twenty minutes ago and the actual blueprints for the city were scattered across the table and floor. Ashelin had called them all in, Torn, Sig, Jak, Tess, Daxter, Pecker, Onin, Jinx, to talk about the rebuilding of the city but she'd never accounted for his and Dax's lifelong dream of a water slide.

So yeah, although he'd lost one family and the chance at another, this new family he'd cobbled together from rebels and cast offs was infinitely better.


End file.
